


These Here Omens Are Mighty Fine, Y’all

by ElijahTheEmuMan



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), American AU, Awkward Flirting, COUNTRY ROOOADS, Country Roads, Courting Rituals, Good Omens Holiday Exchange 2019, Guy Fieri - Freeform - Freeform, Hillbilly hotdogs, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mothman, Mountain mama, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Southernisms, Take me Home, To the place, Trucks, West Virginia, Where I Belong, antiquated flirting, aziraphale is a southern bell, crowley is a redneck, weird American courting rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22173949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElijahTheEmuMan/pseuds/ElijahTheEmuMan
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have helped thwart the Apocalypse, which is a surprisingly common thing in America. Now one Angel and one Demon have new lives to live, new adventures to have. Will one of those adventures be love?? Who knows, Americans don't believe in love, they believe in beer and baseball!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Exchange 2019





	These Here Omens Are Mighty Fine, Y’all

**Author's Note:**

> This was my contribution to the dreamwidth Good Omens holiday exchange for 2019! It was a gift for kaijuusandkryptids and now I’m sharing it with all you lovely folks!

_We are weaned from our timidity_

_In the flush of love’s light_

_we dare be brave_

_And suddenly we see_

_that love costs all we are_

_and will ever be._

_Yet it is only love_

_which sets us free._

“Touched By An Angel” By Maya Angelou

_Cause it's America, and I'm American, and in America I do what I like._

“American Way”, _Holy Musical B@man_

——————————————————————————————————————————

**_These Here Omens Are Mighty Fine, Y’all_ **

“Well, that sure went down like a sack’a potatoes.”

“What was that?”

“I said ‘that sure went down like a sack’a potatoes’.”

“I reckon.”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“I hear that God’s got a burr in Her saddle. Wipin’ out the human race. Big storm’s a-brewin’.”

“All of ‘em?”

“Eh, just the locals.”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Oh, I changed it!”

“Changed what?”

“M’name! ‘Crawly’ just felt a bit too varminty for me.”

“Well you were a snake.”

“Rude.”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“You got both oars in the water? ‘Still a Demon?’ What else am I gonna be, an aardvark?”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“But my darlin’ fella, they’d check!”

“Psshhh our folks have more important things t’ do than check reports from Earth.”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Y’know, I’m fixin’ to head to Edinburgh, this week. Gonna be temptin’ a clan leader to rustle some cattle.”

“Doesn’t sound too hard.”

“Funny ya should mention that…”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“I had a hankerin’!”

“You tellin’ me you hopped across the pond in the middle of a revolution, dressed like _that_ , ‘cause ya ‘had a hankerin’’?”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“I’ve got lots of other people to _fraternize_ with, angel!”

“And the feelin’ is mutual! Obviously!”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“ _You fooled the shithead bookseller. Good job, darling._ ”

“ _It wasn’t hard darling, he’s American_.”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“The Witchfinder Army. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“Wh- bu- now wait a cotton pickin’ minute, ya _just said_ it was secret!”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Hail Satan!”

“Hail Satan!”

“Yeah, howdy y’all, hail Satan!”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Oh wow, I didn’t know there were nannies in America!” 

“Oh yeah, we’re all over the place! Can’t swing a cat ‘round these parts without hittin’ a nanny!”

——————————————————————————————————————————

Raising the wrong child, definitely not going on dates, getting drunk, misplacing the Antichrist, getting run into by a British witch on a bike, bad Angels and rude Demons, losing bodies, burning bookstores, definitely not crying while drunk, driving through fire, sharing bodies, Horsepeople, dad problems, switching bodies, trials, switching bodies back.

What a McFuckin’ week.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Many people, meeting Aziraphale for the first time, formed three impressions: that he was American, that he was intelligent, and that he was as gay as the Fourth of July. One of these was wrong: Heaven is definitely not in the United States of America. 

Many people, meeting Crowley for the first time, formed three impressions: that he was a douchebag, that he was a redneck, and that he was gayer than a two dollar bill. One of these was wrong: he’d never let his skin _burn_ from the _sun_ , are you kidding me? Get out of here with that bullshit.

It was the day _after_ the day that _should_ have been the End of the World. Here in America we call this “Sunday”. Aziraphale and Crowley had just finished their dinner at the Ritz-Carlton in Charlotte, North Carolina, and were now arguing over whether or not they should go to the NASCAR Hall of Fame.

“ _Come on_ , angel, it's only a couple’a blocks away!” Crowley twanged, swinging his lanyard in a circle around two of his fingers.

“But we just stopped the Apocalypse, cain’t we come back some other time?” Aziraphale drawled, stepping back so he wouldn’t get whacked by Crowley’s keys.

“We _could_ but I wanna go right now!” 

“My dear darlin’ boy, if you hit me with those keys…”

“Yeah? What’cha gon’ do?” Crowley asked, swinging his keys around a little faster. 

Aziraphale thought for a moment, watching the lanyard warily. Crowley always had his keys on a lanyard, and the lanyard was always changing. Sometimes it was camouflage, sometimes it had snakes on it, in 2004 it spent a record month saying “Redneck Woman”. Today it had flames on it.

“Crowley, if you hit me with your keys, I’ll drive your truck.”

Crowley missed a beat and accidentally threw his keys several feet away down the sidewalk. They appeared in the pocket of his jeans a second later.

“Ya wouldn’t!”

“I would!”

“Ya dunno how t’ drive!”

“I don’t need to,” Aziraphale said, his eyes twinkling and making Crowley feel simultaneously like a tick on a dog, and like a cat on a hot tin roof.

“Assssssshole,” Crowley hissed without any real malice.

Aziraphale gave Crowley a mock pout. “Oh, bless your heart, dear.”

Crowley’s jaw dropped. “How dare you.”

Aziraphale laughed, his eyes crinkling. “Alright, alright, let’s go to your museum.”

The Angel had intended on giving in anyway. 

The Demon had not expected said Angel to give in.

“Wait, really?” He said, “I didn’t think ya’d actually wanna go.”

“It's clearly important to you, dear, why wouldn’t I wanna go?”

Crowley turned scarlet around his mirrored aviators. “Shucks, angel, it ain’t that big’a deal.”

Aziraphale looked at his companion affectionately. “Hows about we go find your truck and decide what to do from there?”

It was never hard to find Crowley’s black 1930 Ford Model AA. For one, Crowley never parked in a single parking space, preferring to straddle the line. For two, Crowley was always able to find the two closest spaces to where he was going without being in a handicap spot.

Crowley might’ve been a Demon, and a bit of a douchenozzle, but he wasn’t a jerk. 

Crowley opened the door to his truck for Aziraphale, enjoying the surprised little grin he got. Then Crowley hopped over the front of the truck, slid into his seat, and the grin turned into the usual frown when Crowley revved the engine. Crowley enjoyed the frown just as much as the grin.

Aziraphale folded his hands in his lap and looked across the bench at Crowley.

“Do you still wanna go to the Hall of Fame?”

Crowley pulled off his black and red snakeskin cowboy hat and set it on the seat next to him, using the action to take time to think. 

“Nah, not anymore. You? Anythin’ ya wanna do?”

“Actually I think I’d like to go home.”

The fastest you can get from Charlotte, North Caroline to Huntington, West Virginia is about four hours on a toll road. On principle, Crowley does not use toll roads, so it should’ve taken him about two additional hours to get to Aziraphale’s bookstore. They got there in an hour.

Aziraphale got out of the truck feeling less green than usual from Crowley’s driving. Instead, he felt giddy. He hadn’t been back to his bookstore since he discorporated. Well, he supposed his body had been there, but he hadn’t been _in it_ at the time. 

Crowley, hat back on, noticed before Aziraphale did that he was standing on the sidewalk, hesitating. He stepped up to him and awkwardly but gently set his hand on Aziraphale’s arm.

“Hey, I told’ja everythin’s there, angel. Do ya...wanna go inside? See what Adam did with the alcohol?”

Aziraphale leaned into Crowley’s touch. “What he do to the alcohol?”

“Well, it's all Coors Light now.”

“Son of a flea bitten mutt…”

Crowley rolled his eyes and started walking towards the bookstore, his hand sliding down Aziraphale’s arm as he walked away. “Just say ‘bitch’, ang-”

Crowley was interrupted in both walking and talking by Aziraphale catching his hand.

Crowley stood there on the sidewalk, frozen, standing on one foot. His other foot was in the middle of taking a step. One hand was in the pocket of his jeans, and the other had just been captured in the hand of Aziraphale. Crowley turned his head using just his neck, in an attempt to make eye contact with Aziraphale, who was still looking at the bookstore.

Aziraphale’s gaze flicked down to look at where Crowley was frozen, then down to where they were holding hands. He jumped as if he hadn’t realized he’d done it, and dropped Crowley’s hand, blushing something fierce.

“Oh Heavens, I’m sorry dear!”

“ _Issfine_.” Crowley somehow managed to both hiss and croak at the same time.

“I mean, we’ve been in each other’s bodies, you can hold m’ hand,” Crowley said.

If possible, Aziraphale turned redder. “Crowley!” He scolded.

Crowley stared for a moment, then joined Aziraphale in Blush City, Population These Two.

“Asksksk that’s not what I meant!” Crowley unfroze and ran into the bookstore.

Once inside, Crowley kicked himself for being an ass.

“‘ _We’ve been in each other’s bodies_ ’ argh! Stupid!” 

When the bell above the door jingled a second later, Crowley was leaning “casually” against a bookshelf, holding a can of Coors Light that he’d miracled from upstairs.

Aziraphale stood just inside the door. He looked around, and from a cursory glance, nothing looked any different. On a second glance, he saw a couple of changes. It was slightly cleaner, and there was a shelf of children’s books that wasn’t there before. There were a few newer book series and a display of nothing but movie adaptations of books that was _definitely_ not there before. On principle, Aziraphale didn’t watch movie adaptations of books. He did not know why he had this principle.

Making a mental note to take a look at the Lord of the Rings movies at some point, Aziraphale walked past Crowley trying to look cool and went right to the stairs leading to his apartment above the store.

“Come on, Crowley, let’s go celebrate and get crunk!” Aziraphale cheerfully said as he went up the stairs.

“Who the fuck taught’chu that?”

Aziraphale paused on the landing at the top of the stairs, looking at Crowley with his eyebrows furrowed. “A video on the computer, I believe. It was a whole series, with these charming alien characters, but some very crass jokes. I only watched it the one time.” Aziraphale beamed, very proud of himself for referencing an internet video series in a conversation.

Very soon, they were drinking in Aziraphale’s living room. They were still technically drinking out of the Coors cans, but Aziraphale’s beer was now a Strongbough hard cider, and Crowley’s wasn’t even beer anymore. Crowley was rambling on and on about how watching a car race on the tv was nothing compared to watching it in person, and Aziraphale was nodding along and wondering what the appeal of being pelted with tiny pieces of rubber was.

They were both still thinking about the handhold.

Crowley was trying to understand it. It's not like Aziraphale had never _touched_ him before, but he’d never held his _hand_. That’s not something they did. Even if it did make his palm tingle in a way that made him want to do it some more. Actually, a lot of him tingled to touch Aziraphale all the time. Some parts of him more than others. His mouth for instance. One look at Aziraphale and his mouth would itch for hours.

Aziraphale was wondering if he’d be able to grab Crowley’s hand again, this time on purpose. The first time had been an automatic action. But it made his heart race and his palms sweat. He wanted to do it again. But he couldn’t just do that...could he? 

Crowley and Aziraphale had the same thought at the same time.

_I’m gonna woo the daylights outta him._

Aziraphale abruptly stood up and walked into his room. When he returned, he was holding something old and weird.

Simply put, it was a candleholder. There was the usual old-timey tray and handle, very Scrooge. But then there was a large corkscrew in the middle, where one was supposed to fit a candle. Inside of the corkscrew was a wooden block upon which you stick the candle. The block had a wooden dowel that travelled along the corkscrew’s coils, giving you the ability to move the candle up and down. 

It already had a fresh candle in it, and the wooden block was about halfway up the screw. Aziraphale set it on the coffee table between himself and Crowley, and sat back down, looking nervous.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it was appropriate,” he said.

Crowley stared at the candle uncomprehendingly. “Uh, sure angel, the candle is nice.”

Aziraphale beamed, then snapped his fingers. The candle’s wick lit and flickered pleasantly. 

“I’m _so_ glad you agree, my dear.” 

“Uh, right,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale stared at Crowley.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale.

The candle didn’t stare at anyone, because it was a candle.

“So,” Crowley said, breaking the eerie silence that had settled, “what do we want to do for supper later?”

“Hmm, how about you surprise me, darlin’?” Aziraphale shot another beaming smile at Crowley, who blushed deep.

“Uhhaah asdasdsdfjdfjgj how uh, oh! I know just the place, angel!” Crowley said, his eyes sparkling in a mischievous way that usually made humans nervous.

————————————————————————————————————————————

“Crowley, dear, I’m not eatin’ here.” Interestingly enough, despite always speaking the same way for 6,000 years, Aziraphale’s accent gets thicker when he feels distressed.

“Why not?”

“There’s a bus attached to the restaurant. And, is that a boat?”

“The bus is part of the restaurant, that’s where ya eat.”

“Are you pullin’ my leg?” Aziraphale squinted at Crowley, trying to find any signs of dishonesty on his demon’s face.

Crowley, standing in the open passenger door after opening it for his angel, squinted right back. He did this with his whole face so that Aziraphale could see that he was doing it.

“I’m serious, Aziraphale! How can ya live in Huntington fer so long and never eat at Hillbilly Hot Dogs!”

“I _have_ standards!” Aziraphale exclaimed, refusing to get out of the truck.

“Yer judgin’ a book by its cover. Come on, angel, I promise you’ll like it!” Crowley pouted.

Aziraphale sighed. “Alright, fine, lead the way.” He got out of the car and straightened his vest.

Crowley started walking towards the peculiar restaurant that is Hillbilly Hot Dogs. For the second time that day, he found his hand grabbed. This time he didn’t freeze, he just slowly turned to look at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was looking right back at Crowley, and when they made eye contact, he squeezed Crowley’s hand.

Mouth agape, Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand back. 

The benches inside the school bus had been changed into tables and booths. The walls were covered in drawings and peoples’ names in marker. Crowley shooed Aziraphale off to go sit down so he could go to the counter and order for them.

Aziraphale found a table and made himself comfortable. Crowley joined him a minute later and plopped down into the seat across from Aziraphale, tossing his hat who-knows-where.

“So what did you get us?” Aziraphale asked.

“You’ll have to wait ‘n see,” Crowley smirked.

A server appeared and delivered some locally brewed beer for them.

Aziraphale sipped his beer and looked around the bus, reading all the names.

“Guy Fieri came here once,” Crowley said, looking around to try to find his signature. 

“Oh, I love Guy Fieri!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “He _gets_ food in a way that other people don’t. Gabriel would despise him!” Aziraphale giggled.

The server returned with a single plate piled with food. “I’ve got a Mothman Dog with Garlic Ranch Fries?”

Crowley waved to Aziraphale. “That’s for him!” 

Aziraphale thanked the server then turned to glare at Crowley. “Dear, that was _one time!_ ”

“Was it?”

“Well maybe it was one or...five...times? But really dear, who’s countin’?”

“Oh, I am, definitely.”

“You fiend,” Aziraphale said, blushing and starting to eat.

“The original!” Crowley declared, baring his teeth in an almost feral smile.

Aziraphale dabbed some 1,000 Island Dressing from the corner of his mouth. “Are you?”

“I sure am!”

Aziraphale smiled fondly, and then reached across the table to place his hand on Crowley’s. 

Crowley managed to only blush a little bit.

“You know what, Crowley? You were right about this place! The food is quite good!” 

Crowley smiled wide, his eyebrows flying up towards his hair. “See! I told you ya would!” 

“Yeah, you did. You know, dear, I’m so glad we're doin’ this,” Aziraphale said, his eyes twinkling with a bunch of squishy emotions.

“Going to, supper? We do this all th’ time, angel,” Crowley said, confused.

“No, but this is also lovely. I meant courting.” Aziraphale finished his hot dog and began on the fries.

Crowley blue-screened.

Aziraphale hummed appreciatively while he worked on his fries, and when he looked up to take a drink of his beer, he noticed Crowley’s shocked and frozen face.

“Gracious, dear, are you alright?” Aziraphale reached to touch Crowley’s face, which jolted him back into awareness.

“ _Courtin’_ ?! Wha’chu meen _courtin_ ’?!” Crowley was shaking slightly, from trying not to scream and turn into a snake.

Aziraphale blinked rapidly. “What do you mean, what do _I_ mean? We’re courtin’, darlin’, we talked about it this afternoon.”

“No we sssssssssscertainly didn’t!”

“Yes, we certainly did! I showed you my courtin’ candle, and you said it was nice!”

“Courting. Candle.”

“Yes, _dear_ , my, courtin’ candle. An’ in case ya didn’t see it, i rolled it up all th’ way to th’ top!” Aziraphale was getting frustrated.

“Wha’ th’ fuck doessssssssssssssssss tha’ meen?” Crowley’s tongue was starting to fork.

“It means you could stay longer.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Once th’ flame reached th’ point of th’ corkscrew ya woulda had ta leave, so I rolled th’ wooden piece all th’ way up so ya coulda stayed longer!”

“Where ya even get a thing like that?” Crowley’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I bought one in the late seventeen hundreds.”

“Why?”

Aziraphale blushed. “Well, they were uh, popular for setting boundaries when one had a gentleman caller, and uh, I thought perhaps it would come in handy. Eventually.” He covered his face with his hands.

Crowley went a bit limp in his bones. _Setting boundaries when one had a gentleman caller_. 

_Oh._

_Oh fuck._

“Angel?” Crowley said softly.

Aziraphale peeked at Crowley through his fingers. 

“I didn’t know wha’ the candle wasss for, Azsssiraphale,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale dropped his hands. “But...you said it was nice.”

“Well yeah, it's a right purty candle, angel. But I didn’t know the uhhhhh ssssignificancssse.” Crowley looked and felt like he was seconds from turning into one of the tomatoes that had been on Aziraphale’s hot dog.

“Oh. Well, I, um.” Aziraphale didn’t know how to proceed. His confidence had skyrocketed while he thought they were on the same page in regards to their feelings, but now that he knew that Crowley was clueless, he didn’t know what to do or say.

“Did uh, um, did’ja want me to uh...did’ja want me to... _call on you_?” Crowley grimaced at the outdated phrasing.

Aziraphale released the breath he’d been holding, and retook Crowley’s hand.

“I would, dear. I would like that very much.”

“Alright,” Crowley drawled, pulling his hat out of thin air and putting it on, “I’m gonna go pay for our lunch.” And then he was up and nearly running to the counter.

Aziraphale smiled and stood up to follow. But then, on a whim, he miracled a permanent marker into existence in his hand. He searched until he found an open spot on the wall of the bus, uncapped the marker, and started to write in small, neat penmanship. People don’t traditionally put entire poems on the walls, and Aziraphale might be old-fashioned, but he wasn’t what one called traditional. But he found a small empty spot to put his dedication, and when he finished, he touched the marker strokes with the tips of his fingers, and he smiled a smile that was full of love and sunshine. And if Crowley saw it when he came to fetch Aziraphale, he didn’t say, but the hand that took Aziraphale’s was confident and sure of itself. 

If you try too hard, you probably won’t find what Aziraphale wrote. But if you happen upon it, and read his words, the blessing of both an Angel and Demon will follow you for the rest of your day.

**A.Z. Fell**

**+**

**A.J. Crowley**

**Had their first official date here.**

**“Your skin like dawn**

**Mine like musk**

**One paints the beginning**

**of a certain end.**

**The other, the end of a**

**sure beginning.”**

**(Maya Angelou)**

**Author's Note:**

> “I showed you my courting candle please respond”
> 
> Hi! Hoped you all enjoyed it! You can find me on tumblr @/elijah-beth 💙💙💙💙💙


End file.
